


Older

by SpaceRamen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abusive Parents, Bullying, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pennywise (IT) Exists, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceRamen/pseuds/SpaceRamen
Summary: A continuation of Connor Bower's story, and why we never hear from him again past the scene at the arcade.
Relationships: Connor Bowers/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Older

Connor had been getting sent to Derry every summer for a month since he was practically a toddler and barely old enough to walk about without needing his mother there to keep him upright. He’d trail after his older cousin like a puppy and laugh when he’d push down the kid who lived on the farm nearby or throw out slurs that neither of them yet understood but simply had picked up from his uncle, simply because it was a game in his mind. Henry had always told him it was a game, and it wasn’t until he was older that he realized that most kids didn’t do what he and his cousin did for fun. But Connor would continue to trail the older blonde anyways, because he didn’t want to start finding himself on the other side of those “games”. Then he’d go back into the arms of his mother and father and pretend that Derry never existed until it repeated all over again.

If someone were to ask Connor when exactly Henry really began to change from a boy mimicking his father into a monster (which they couldn’t now), he wouldn’t be able to answer. Maybe around fourth grade, when a boy with greasy black hair began to hang around with Henry and Connor and the small gang the elder of the two had amassed. There was Reginald, who at that time wasn’t yet “Belch” but still just Reggie and pretty much a normal kid like the rest of them. Belch was always the most normal of them, maybe only second to Vic. They became known as the Bowers Gang, though it was more of a self proclaimed title than a real one, it would only become something the kids of Derry feared just as much as the unknown when Henry hit high school. Connor would still be unrecognizable as Bowers’ Cousin for a few years, because other than watching from the sidelines he didn’t interact with most of Derry.

If someone were to ask Connor when  _ he _ changed however, that was an easy moment to pick out. It was the beginning of fifth grade. His parents had divorced after it came out that his father had been abusing his mother since before he was born, and that was when Connor began to recognize the “curse” on his family. All the men in their bloodline were destined to be shit bags, and himself and Henry had been set up for it from birth. Custody was another entire issue, since his father had never laid a hand on him. Things began to pile up right as Connor was entering middle school and it was a stab to the gut when he got shoved into a locker for looking at a boy the wrong way and he finally realized the weight of the word “faggot”.

After that, Connor disappeared. Not literally, but he became a ghost in the halls, doing whatever he could to remain out of the sight of the people who would probably kill him if they knew what he thought about at night. Until the sweet release of summer when he could hide behind Henry and feel safe from those feelings, like he didn’t have them to begin with. The tables could be turned on some other poor kid, and he wouldn’t need to worry about it until he returned home for the last month of summer and the beginning of school.

It wasn’t like Connor was totally gay, because he wasn’t and he’d carry that truth to his grave. There was a girl, back home, with mousy brown hair and eyes as clear as crystal. Her name was Melody and by the time he was thirteen he’d deemed the girl his only and best friend. Which wasn't as sad as the stories made it out to be. He was content with just having one person he was close with and then disappearing for a month to release all the pent up anger from being in a city where being open about liking men and women would get him shot in the head. Melody was sweet and Connor would attest to it that she always deserved better than the person he was when she wasn’t around.

Then Richie Tozier happened.

It was...the summer of ‘89, wasn’t it? Oh, who was he kidding, it had to be. It simply couldn’t have been any other year. Henry and Belch and Vic and the rest of his now much larger and much more violent gang were off doing god knows what, and Connor had snagged some of the money his mom sent with for activities and went down to the arcade. There was a kid there who, if he was being honest, looked like he’d stepped directly out of a cartoon. Large framed glasses that magnified his eyes to a comical extent and curls that either weren’t washed properly or had never been brushed atop his head. This was the last kind of boy Connor expected would send shockwaves through his heart. But Richie Tozier managed it. They played Street Fighter for a few rounds, and he’d just been offered another when he glanced behind him and caught sight of a mullet. Fuck, that thing was ugly, and he’d told Henry to cut it a thousand times. Well, not told. Connor was frankly terrified of his cousin and uncle after hearing the screaming matches and physical fights from the guest room. So he just casually dropped a hint or two about all the guys in the city cutting their mullets here and there.

Henry’s rage could be seen before Connor could even turn back to Richie and turn on the facade, mouthing a small ‘sorry’ that he’d never even be sure the kid caught. Then he went off on the usual tirade. Fairies, faggots, all the lovely noise that got his cousin stirred up just enough to turn his attention off Connor hanging out with one of his favorite targets. There were a few things he’d never mistake or forget from those few seconds though. That was the hurt in Richie’s eyes, and the disappointment in Belch and Vic’s. Connor realized he’d become exactly what he’d never wanted to, and maybe that was when he began to distance himself from Henry and his gang. Spending more time in the woods than leaning against Belch’s car or hiding away in the guest room until the screaming and Henry’s whimpering stopped. It was easier, suddenly, to be a ghost back home than a bully in Derry. 

The end of July didn’t come quick enough, and when it finally did Connor was horrified to find that his mother wasn’t coming to pick him up. The whole situation had been so odd and he’d all but begged her to come but it wasn’t to any avail. She promised next week, only a few more days, and then it was mid August. Connor was still hiding in the guest room and becoming increasingly more terrified of leaving even for food because the scary glints in his uncle’s eyes had become malicious expressions and Henry looked ready to snap and kill the first person he laid eyes on at any minute. God he’d prayed that his mother would come before that could happen. But of course, it didn’t.

Connor had been returning from the woods, a couple of frog bones he’d make into a necklace stuffed into the pocket of his jeans. If he could recall (which was becoming increasingly difficult to do) he was wearing his favorite blue jeans and a black t-shirt tucked into them that day. While when he left Henry and his gang- now minus Patrick- were shooting bottles out front. When he returned they were nowhere to be found and the entire property was eerily silent. Connor ignored it, stupidly, and went inside. What he saw had him vomiting at his feet and screaming a few short seconds later. Slumped in the armchair in front of the television was Butch Bowers, a bloody river extending from his neck and the weapon nowhere to be seen. His body was shaking as he stumbled to the phone, dialling 911 and all but sobbing out what he’d found to the police man. Just as Connor had gotten the story out, the line went dead, and no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t pick back up.

The bathroom sink turned on, a distant but audible noise that shook Connor to his core. Whoever had done this was still here. He raced to the kitchen, throwing open the silverware drawer and grabbing the sharpest knife he could spot before he started towards the bathroom. If the attacker was still here it was his job to keep them here, right? Just until the cops got there, Connor could do that. He was thirteen now. He’d hung out with big boys his whole life and it's surely made him mature enough to handle this. Nervously the boy licked his lips, and then kicked the door in. Thank god for the locks being busted for years now.

The boy that stood there was beautiful, unreal actually.

Black curls sat atop his head in a way far too familiar, and large framed glasses magnified crystal clear eyes. He was no older than Connor, maybe even a little younger, and he was...so pretty. He stood there, in the bathroom, wearing a white sleeveless top and white shorts with bright red buttons down the front. He was slim and curved in all the right ways that made Connor’s heartstrings tug painfully and tears brim his eyes. This couldn’t be real. This mystery boy was too perfect, too pure (to be touched by his dirty fruit hands) to have murdered a man. But he stepped forward, lips splitting into a grin and took ahold of Connor’s hand. Panic flooded his chest and he immediately found himself trying desperately to tug away. No, no no, if someone saw them they’d both be dead. Dead because of him and the thoughts he’d been trying for years to keep contained in his chest. “Come with me, I can take us somewhere better,” Even his voice was like an angel’s pure and perfection to Connor’s ears. He couldn’t help but to agree, following the boy though the panic in his chest threatened to swallow him whole. “Do you know what it feels like?” The boy asked, and while he couldn’t speak Connor shook his head. “It’s like floating, let me show you.” In a moment’s notice the boy’s lips were on his and that was all it took for Connor to scream. Because in seconds his mouth had opened wider than physically possible and lights engulfed every aspect of the blonde’s being.

Connor was unable to recall what happened next, only that his every atom was ripped apart and pieced back together. He felt nothing, he  _ was  _ nothing.

All his life, Connor had looked forward to getting older and becoming a man, doing what he wished and maybe even one day freely loving another man. Piecing together his life with his partner and proving that his family wasn’t meant to be a bunch of fuck ups who treat everyone around them like they were toys. Now he just wanted to go back to the days when he could play with Reggie and Vic and Henry and be nothing more than a few kids pretending to be race cars or super heroes. Do everything all over again and never say what he did to Richie. Go back home and tell Melody all the secrets he’d been harboring for years. What he’d give to have a second chance at learning to be a person.

Connor Lewis Bowers was reported as missing on August 23, 1989. He was nowhere to be found after reporting the death of his uncle Butch Bowers, and his cousin Henry Bowers was shortly after arrested for the murder of his father and the disappearances of the missing children. Including his own family. Connor’s mother would arrive in Derry three short days after his disappearance, devastated by the loss of her son. Connor was proclaimed deceased on September 3, 1989 and his body was never recovered. Along with thirteen other children whom had disappeared since October the year prior, only a few had their bodies recovered. One of which was George Denbrough, age six, found by a storm drain and missing his left arm. Nobody is quite sure who or what had caused the untimely deaths of these children, but Henry Bowers now resides at Juniper Hill Asylum after confessing to kidnapping and murdering all of them.


End file.
